Dawn O'Porter: Cooking is my therapy

Closing my laptop and cooking dinner for my kid and husband is my favourite part of the day. I always try new recipes, from pies to omelettes, and I find it really therapeutic: the ingredient shopping, the preparation, the reward of something delicious.

Retts Wood

Every Sunday, my husband and I entertain friends and family, whether it’s a roast lunch for four or a party for 20, and the more people I can feed, the better. For larger crowds, I’ll do a big spread with slow-cooked pork or a barbecue with homemade coleslaw, plus kids’ options. My auntie, who raised me, is a wonderful cook. She’s taught me to love food, and the way it’s made, and I’m so grateful. It’s why I enjoy filling the house with divine smells before guests arrive, and watching them chow down and chat in a setting I’ve created. Ok, I just bloody love being the host, and I’m a bit of a control freak about it.

A while ago, I offered to host a friend’s baby shower for 15 people, mainly because I didn’t want to go to another party where women eat chocolate out of nappies like that s**t is funny. It was just after Christmas, and I’d cooked and hosted for ten days in a row, so I decided to order Turkish takeaway instead. But I got myself into such a state. Why? When I cook I have a plan, I know exactly what will happen.

There’s nothing wrong with ordering in – I certainly didn’t keep it a secret – I just didn’t enjoy it. In fact, the night before the shower, I had the most vivid dream about the food not turning up, the mum-to-be going into labour because she was so upset, and guests calling the whole thing UNFORGIVABLE (dramatic much?). I woke up and must have called the delivery place about 38,074 times to make sure they were coming. When the food arrived, I tore the boxes apart in a frenzy to make sure everything was there. It was, and everyone tucked in. Still, I missed being in the kitchen that morning listening to the radio while stirring, stewing and steaming.

Some of my friends can’t fathom the effort I put into cooking. They’re happy to stick a potato in a microwave, or boil some pasta with shop-bought tomato sauce. The (imagined) stress of cooking won’t allow them to investigate the satisfaction it can bring. But food is one of the greatest joys in life. Add culinary creativity and great conversation, and you’ve got the perfect night in. So, this month, I’m setting you a challenge: invite some mates over and cook them a homemade meal. It doesn’t have to be fancy, but I bet you’ll watch every dollop of what you make go into their mouths and feel epically proud. It’s easy, especially after a busy day, to get stuck in a rut of slumping in front of the TV eating tasteless food, or dining out for convenience. Well, I say, let’s make cooking fun again. If you don’t get a kick out of preparing a meal after reading this, I’ll cook my words and eat them, too.